


Bad Dreams

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Mal [5]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal has bad dreams, and gets a new place to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

            Trip wasn't sure exactly what woke him up—sound, movement, the relentless stare. But when he finally convinced his eyelids to lift, the first thing he saw was a pair of unblinking eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light from the passing stars. For a moment he thought of a wild beast; then the figure leaned forward a bit more in the starlight and he recognized Mal's pale face.

            "J---s, Mal," Trip sighed, only half-awake. "What's wrong?"

            The dark-haired man must have been kneeling or crouching at the side of the bed, peering over the edge of the blankets at Trip. "Can I sleep in the bed with you?" he asked, his vaguely British accent sounding even more incongruous in the middle of the night.

            "What? No," Trip told him with annoyance. "Go back to sleep."

            "Please?" Mal persisted. He rested his arms on the edge of the bed and his chin on top of them. His tone was not yet begging or whining, but Trip feared it would turn in that direction soon. "I won't take up much room."

            "There's not much room to take up," Trip snapped, rubbing a hand over his face. He did _not_ want to wake up so much that he couldn't fall back to sleep right away—he didn't like missing any of his six hours of slumber. "Would you get back to your bed and go back to sleep?"

            'Bed' may have been a bit of an exaggeration; it was more of a pile of blankets and pillows in the corner. "Please? You won't even notice me."

            "I am noticin' you plenty _now_ ," Trip ground out, willing his head to stay down on the pillow. He wanted to retain _some_ semblance of rest. "You're the one who wanted to sleep in _my_ quarters. You said you would be _fine_ on the floor. So get back there!"

"I had a bad dream," Mal finally admitted, flatly.

            Trip rolled his eyes. "It was just a dream," he replied crossly. "Go back to sleep already!" To punctuate this admonition Trip rolled over, putting his back to Mal, and pulled the blanket up over his head. He didn't hear a sound the rest of the night.

 

            Ramirez was working on a diagnostic panel when she heard a gasp, a _thunk_ , and a muttered curse, in that order, from the nearby access tube. "You okay?" she asked the pair of black-clad legs sticking out of the hole.

            Mal slid out, without the hypospanner he'd been using to test the conduit connectors, and held his hand up to the light. Ramirez's eyes widened when she saw the large, bloody gash across his palm. "Oh, G-d," she exclaimed, and immediately looked around for Commander Tucker. He was standing on the landing before the warp coil. "Commander!" she called urgently.

            "No, it's nothing, it's nothing," Mal insisted, folding his hand up inside the sleeve of his pullover. The dark fabric immediately soaked through with blood.

            "That cut looks really deep," Ramirez contradicted worriedly. "Commander!" She was about to go closer and summon Trip but Mal caught her arm.

            "No, please, it'll heal," Mal told her. "Don't bother him."

            "You need to go to Sickbay," Ramirez said firmly. Someone had finally heard her shouts and pointed Trip towards her. The engineer frowned when he saw his ensign with Mal and jogged over, a slightly peeved look on his face.

            "What's wrong?"

            "He's cut himself, sir," Ramirez reported, trying to grab Mal's arm. He dodged it away from her.

            "It's nothing," he repeated defiantly to Trip.

            "Let's see it," Trip ordered, and Mal couldn't disobey him. Carefully he pulled the bloodied sleeve up, exposing his hand. "J---s C----t, Mal!" Trip swore when he saw the injury. "What the h—l were you doing? Come on!"

            Trip took the dark-haired man's arm and began to drag him towards the door, his grip far from gentle. "I was just tightening the conduit connectors," he tried to explain, his voice strangely distracted. "It's nothing, it'll heal..."

            "Yeah, not before you bleed all over my engine room," Trip shot back, pulling him down the corridor towards Sickbay.

            Mal didn't answer but staggered a little bit as they rounded a corner. Now Trip was really getting a little concerned. "How much blood have you lost?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically, looking behind them as if he expected to see bloody footprints in their wake.

            "Just a little tired, that's all," Mal assured him, words slurring. Trip shook his head and yanked the man bodily through the Sickbay doors.

            "You get tired, you get sloppy, and that's when something bad happens," Trip lectured harshly a few minutes later, as Phlox bandaged Mal's wound. Mal said nothing, merely gazing down at his injury with a bland expression.

            "It could have been worse," the doctor assured them cheerfully. "Now, keep this dry and try not to use it for a day or two. With your metabolism it should be healed by then. Do come and see me about it tomorrow, though." When his instructions received no response, Phlox prompted, "Mal?"

            The dark-haired man snapped his eyes up, but they remained unfocused. "Yes, sir," he murmured faintly.

            Trip rolled his eyes. "You're going home to take a nap," he decided, still irritated. "I won't have you blowin' up my engines 'cause you can't see straight."

            "No, no," Mal protested, trying to shake himself back to attention. "I'm fine, I'm alright..."

            "Far from it, I'm afraid," Phlox corrected, gazing soberly at the display on his hand scanner. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

            Mal shrugged, scrubbing his good hand over his face. "An hour?"

            "And the night before?"

            "About the same."

            "All this week?"

            "About the same."

            "J---s, Mal!" Trip exclaimed. "What've you been doin' the _rest_ of the night, huh?"

            "I can't sleep," Mal told them, somewhat unnecessarily. "I have bad dreams."

            "I see," Phlox commented neutrally. "The body, even one with advanced healing abilities such as yours, cannot survive on so little sleep. Eventually the fatigue will take its toll. I'd like to give you a mild sedative that will help you sleep for the moment, and then perhaps later we can discuss these dreams of yours."

            Unable to make a decision, Mal looked to Trip. "Yeah, sure, Doc, if that's what you think best," Trip told Phlox.

            The doctor nodded and pressed a hypospray against Mal's neck. "I would get him home soon, Commander," he suggested. "The sedative will start to affect him within just a few minutes. Or," he added carefully, "I can keep him here, if you would prefer."

            "N-no," Mal protested, reaching out to Trip even as he tipped forward precariously on the biobed.

            Both Trip and the doctor moved to grab him. "I'm gonna try to get him home," Trip decided, sliding Mal's arm over his shoulder. "Thanks, Doc. Come on, buddy, walk with me here."

            They sure didn't look like well-matched candidates for the three-legged race, Trip thought to himself as he and Mal lurched down the hall, but at least they were both still upright. A passing crewmember stared at them as they went by, but Trip accepted it as his due—once again he'd failed to take proper care of Mal. Although the d—n stubborn man had only complained about a bad dream _once_ , not all week. Mal was the one with the mind-reading abilities (sort of), not Trip... how was he supposed to know how serious Mal was? _You could have asked,_ Trip told himself.

            Finally they reached their cabin and Trip deposited Mal on the bed. There was some awkwardness as Trip tried to remove Mal's shoes and get him under the covers, but eventually it seemed to work out. Already half-asleep Mal mumbled something and grabbed at Trip's arm, refusing to release him. Trip sat down on the edge of the bed, just a few uncomfortable centimeters really, and tried to run his fingers through Mal's hair soothingly. "It's okay, Mal, you're home now, you just get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna be right here," he added heavily. He couldn't possibly leave Mal right now—who knew when he would wake up, and if Trip weren't in the room with him he'd probably freak out. Although Trip wasn't looking forward to testing Jon's patience and friendship by asking for the rest of the shift off. Well, he could make it up with shifts later, G-d knew he was in Engineering half the time anyway, no matter _what_ shift it was.

            An hour into his unexpected day off, Trip was sitting at his desk watching the readouts from Engineering and constantly messaging his staff with orders to check this or tweak that. He had the feeling that when he went back—hopefully later tonight—they were going to be a little ticked at him. Which had never stopped him, when it came to making sure his engines were okay. He was even still in his uniform, having not completely convinced himself that it would be okay to change into more casual clothes yet.

            A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to see Mal twitching on the bed. Trip frowned and watched a moment longer—maybe Mal was just getting comfortable? More violent jerks of his body told Trip otherwise and he went to the bedside immediately.

            "Mal? Mal! Mal, buddy, calm down, it's okay—" Mal curled up into a tiny ball suddenly and Trip had to pull the covers off to see him. "Mal, hey, come on, wake up—" He put his hand on Mal's shoulder, mildly worried that the man would lash out, thinking Trip was some attacking phantom, and fling him across the room. Trip dropped to his knees, shaking Mal a little harder. "Mal! Wake up!"

            Mal's eyes, wet and unfocused, popped open. He was breathing hard and Trip saw that he'd brought his hand up over his mouth in his sleep, presumably to keep himself quiet. So he wouldn't wake Trip up. G-d, now Trip felt like even more of a b-----d. He hadn't really thought that was possible, especially after the exercise ball incident.

            Trip wrapped his arm around Mal and felt the other man clutching him in return. "It's okay, buddy," Trip assured him, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was just a dream."

            "S-sorry," Mal mumbled against Trip's shoulder, sniffling.

            "It's okay," Trip repeated. "Shhh, it's okay." He tried to pull away a bit and Mal clung tighter, a whine in the back of his throat. "Just let me take my boots off, okay?" Trip made short work of the footwear and crawled into bed in his uniform, where Mal latched onto him immediately. Trip yanked the covers messily back over them. "Just go back to sleep, alright? You need more sleep. I'll be right here."

            He suspected Mal hadn't really ever woken up in the first place, because he seemed to be asleep before Trip had even gotten all the words out. For an instant Trip wished he'd grabbed a data pad to look at, then he told himself to forget about work for a while—his staff were perfectly competent at handling the routine maintenance and checks without him. And it wasn't like they weren't going to call him if there were an emergency of some kind. Also, he added, stifling a bit of a yawn, he could use some extra sleep himself, really, he supposed...

 

            "You should go to bed now."

            "I'm not done reading this report yet—"

            "You can read it in the morning."

            "You're worse than my mother."

            "Your mother had a tough job."

            Trip shot Mal a glare. Yet he switched off his computer and stood from the desk, stretching a little after being glued to the chair for the last three hours after dinner. "Fine. I'm going to bed now. Happy?"

            "Thrilled."

            Trip turned off the light, bathing the cabin in shifting shadows from the passing starlight, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Mal starting to squirm around in his pile of blankets on the floor. "You wanna sleep in the bed or what?" Trip finally blurted out.

            It wasn't often he could take Mal by surprise, what with the close eye the other man kept on his emotions, but Trip himself hadn't really been thinking about this much. At least, not about what he would do when bedtime finally came. Mal blinked at him from across the room, hesitating. "Really?"

            "Yeah, come on, before I change my mind," Trip encouraged, lying down on his side. He tried to judge what half the mattress was and stay on that, even though there wasn't exactly a lot of room to apportion between two people. He felt the bed shift as Mal climbed on from the other side—and then the air in his lungs was forced out with an "oof!" as Mal thumped up right against Trip's back, arm wrapped around his ribs, Mal's nose against the back of Trip's neck. Okay, Trip knew there was _definitely_ more room than _that._

            "Um, Mal—"

            "Something wrong?" Mal asked innocently.

            He d—n well knew there was. And Trip knew that he knew. And Mal knew that Trip knew that he knew. But as even _that_ level of thought was beginning to confuse Trip's sleepy mind, he decided he could live with it for the moment. But only for the moment. Really.


End file.
